When Witches Attack
by PokeyDotes
Summary: NCISLAMagazine Deeks Challenge response. Deeks just wants to make it home in time for Trick-or-Treaters. That's the plan anyway...


**AN:** This was written as a response to NCISLAMagazine's Deeks Fanfic challenge. When I first began writing it, it was an uber long story with a beginning and end that didn't really blend. So, I split it up and made two separate stories that lack a plot. This is the first of those two stories. You can just look at it as a slightly wordy drabble.

**October 31**

It's the cheap candy that ruins the holiday. It's something Deeks had decided long ago, back when Halloween was still all about the candy and the biggest issue was figuring out how to use what was lying around the house as a costume.

Yet, here he stands, hands on hips, head tilted to the side as he glares at the many bags before him. He's pretty sure candy wasn't this expensive last year. Hell, he's almost certain it wasn't this expensive yesterday. But that's what he gets for cutting it close, for waiting until the last minute before realizing that all those cheesy advertisements and themed decorations were actually warning him that Halloween was on its way.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, a little chime following right after. He already knows what the text will say, probably the same thing as the last one. Yet, he looks anyway.

_Hurry up! _

He sends a quick reply, a promise that he's on his way before returning to the problem at hand. It's the cheap candy that ruins the holiday, but there's no way Deeks is spending twenty bucks on a single bag of bite-sized Snickers.

He settles for a couple of bags of the cheaper candy, an un-branded assortment that promises to taste so bad even the companies don't want to put their names on it. Candy now in hand, he checks his watch, frowns, and heads for the checkout line. That frown morphs into a look of irritation and stunned disbelief as he sees the line before him. It probably wouldn't be so bad were it not for the older woman sorting through coupons, her giant purse taking up a good portion of the conveyor belt, her slow moving fingers taking up a good portion of everyone's time.

Deeks closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and takes a deep breath through his nose. He counts to three and then lets it out again. It's a little trick Sam taught him, a calming technique the SEAL had thought to share during a particularly boring stakeout.

It's three minutes and six rounds of breathing before the line moves forward enough for Deeks to take a theatrically large step forward, Coupon Lady leaving with her bags in hand. It takes another two minutes before he's greeted by a middle-aged cashier whose idea of customer service is mumbling in a bored monotone, "You know, that stuff will rot your teeth."

Deeks just smiles and hands her the money, one hand reaching into his pocket to turn off the now ringing phone. "It's okay," he says, "It's not for me anyway." And then he's out the door, broad smile in place as he holds up the bags of candy to a slightly agitated looking Kensi.

"What took you so long," she asks, putting the car in gear and heading towards the Highway.

Deeks buckles his seatbelt, and puts the candy into the back seat. "Seems like I'm not the only one with the idea of buying candy on their lunch break."

"Well, our lunch break ended five minutes ago." Kensi tosses her phone into his lap, the screen already lit up with a text from Eric. "According to our dead guy's email, he was meeting the buyer at a local theater."

"Any idea if the meeting already took place?" Deeks asks, reading the text while trying to remember everything that was said during that morning's briefing.

Kensi keeps her eyes on the road as she answers, hands at ten and two as she navigates the pumpkin lined streets. "That's what we're gonna try and find out."

"We're not gonna get home in time for trick or treaters, are we?"

Kensi snorts as she tries to hold in her laughter. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Empty theaters are creepy. Period. They always give off that eerie, haunted vibe, causing the hairs on your arm to rise, and that inner five-year-old hidden deep down to cringe. Add in a few convincing Halloween themed props, a late hour, and the potential for a crime scene, and 'creepy' gets upgraded to 'freaking scary'.

Deeks keeps guard, flashlight held steady as Kensi works the locked door, the sounds of metal clicking together sounding disturbingly loud in the empty alley. Broken and outdated props line the outer walls of the building, bits of trash and cigarette butts are scattered about the ground, squishing beneath his boots as he shifts from one foot to the other.

"Any day now, partner," he whispers under his breath, ears straining to block out the sounds of the surrounding city in favor of something potentially more dangerous.

Kensi remains quiet, choosing instead to push the now unlocked door open as she stands and gives Deeks a cocky half-smile. He responds with a grin of his own, head dipping in an 'after you' kind of way as he shines his flashlight into the darkened theater.

The creepy-ass, darkened theater.

The hallway is narrow, wardrobe racks lining the entire length of one wall with the occasional prop tossed aside for good measure. Truth be told, it looks like every other backstage theater Deeks has been in. And he's been in a few.

When Deeks was fourteen, his high school guidance counselor suggested he take Dramatic Arts 101, not only to cover the elective class all freshmen were required to take, but also to keep a confused teen out of trouble. Deeks had hated the idea, going so far as to actually sulk as he walked into the school's auditorium that first day, forcefully slamming his body down into a seat on the third row and glaring at the stage lights, daring anyone to talk to him.

That attitude had lasted only one day. By day two, young Marty was a little intrigued. Day three brought actual interest, and by the end of the first week, Deeks had thought he might be in love.

His teacher, a squat looking woman in her mid-fifties with cat-eye glasses, had said he was a natural, praising his ability to blend into the situation, to come up with scenarios on the spot. She introduced him to improvisation and method acting, two ideas that have stuck with him for life. Two talents that have saved his life more than once.

Being undercover is one continuous performance. All method acting, always in the moment, never with any pre-planned lines.

Halloween is the perfect night to stretch those talents without the hazards that normally accompany the job. Past Halloweens have taught him that he's not likely to encounter anything more dangerous than a hangover and a little suggestive bruising.

Deeks hasn't worn a costume in years, at least not in the traditional sense. He wears clothes that belong to his character, to his cover. A pair of glasses and a tie clip for a neurotic germophobe, a leather jacket for a badass, the occasional detested janitorial jumpsuit. Nothing too drastic, nothing that screams '_look at me_' like a pair of fairy wings or hockey mask. Deeks prefers subtlety for his costumes. Even on Halloween.

But that's not to say he doesn't approve when others dress up a little more theatrically.

He hears Kensi begin to sort through one of the costume racks, the beam from the flashlight allowing him to see general interest on her face as she studies each article of clothing. Deeks peeks into one of the many boxes stacked near the door, his tone aiming for casual as he studies a foam head used to hold wigs. "So, did you have anything planned for Halloween?"

"Maybe," Kensi answers, her attention now moving to another rack of clothing.

Deeks drops the foam head back into the box and tries not to smile at his partner's attempts at being dismissive. "Maybe? What kind of answer is that?"

"An honest one." She keeps moving, and Deeks can't help noticing that she's making a conscious effort not to face him.

"_Maybe_," Deeks agrees half-heartedly, opening a door and peering in, frowning when it turns out to be nothing more than an empty bathroom. "Or, maybe it's your way of avoiding the issue."

"And what issue would that be?" She sounds agitated now, but there's a little amusement sneaking into her tone, and that's all Deeks needs to move forward.

"The issue of your obviously slutty costume."

Kensi stops walking, her flashlight swinging around to point at her partner, the beam hitting him square in the eyes. "Who said my costume was slutty?"

"So you admit you do have a costume?" Deeks smiles, his hand rising to block out the worst of the offending light.

Kensi points the beam back down the hall, shaking her head. "I was going to be a dinosaur."

"A dinosa—What? Seriously?"

Kensi stops once again, this time looking a little confused and slightly offended. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Deeks says quickly, not wanting to deal with an honestly pissed off Kensi. Funnily annoyed Kensi is preferable, honestly pissed and offended Kensi ranks up there with needles and clumsy dentists. "It's just that it's Halloween. It's the one night of the year when girls can dress slutty and not be judged."

"Are you quoting _Mean Girls_?"

"That doesn't matter," he deflects quickly, "what matters is that you're wasting your opportunity." 

"My opportunity to be a slut?"

"Not a slut," he corrects, sensing a hint of incredulousness, "Your opportunity to be affluently sexy."

"Because I was going to be a dinosaur?" she asks.

"Because you were going to be a dinosaur," he confirms.

"Doesn't matter anyway," she tells him with an all-knowing smile, straightening her posture like she always does when she knows she's about to make a point, "Work kinda cancelled any plans I may or may not have had."

Deeks nods his reluctant agreement, his mind going to the bags of candy resting on the back seat. He feels his forehead wrinkle in frustration as he thinks about what's likely to be waiting for him at home.

"What about you?" Kensi asks, leading the way into the dressing area. Several makeup tables sit in a crowded row, most missing the majority of their vanity lights.

Deeks walks to the first, flashlight shining over a mess of sponges and makeup applicators, false eyelashes, and brightly colored face paints. "What do you mean what about me?"

"What were your plans?" Kensi clarifies, her eyes scanning each workstation for a sign that one belonged to the dead guy. "You can't expect me to believe that the great Marty Deeks was just going to sit at home and pass out candy."

"I _was _gonna sit at home and pass out candy," he tells her, picking up a false mustache with the tips of his fingers. "The plan _was_ to get home in time to watch a little 70s era Jamie Lee Curtis, have a beer or two, and pass out candy for a couple of hours."

When Kensi doesn't say anything, Deeks looks up, his face all innocence as he tries to drop the mustache, but the glue causes the damn thing to stick to his fingers. She's staring at him, hip cocked to the side, eyes squinted in suspicion. "What?" he asks with a smile, flinging his hand in hopes the mustache will fall.

She continues to stare for a moment, her lips pursing to the side in consideration before she gives a half-hearted shrug and continues moving down the line of tables. "Nothing. Just thought you'd be out trying to charm your way into some VIP only party extravaganza."

Deeks pushes the mustache against the mirror of the closest table, pressing hard to make sure it stays before wiping the glue's sticky residue on his jeans. "That comes after the candy. Got to make sure the kids are happy first."

"Well, aren't you Mr. Generosity," she says in a mocking voice. Deeks gives a short, breathy laugh as he scans the walls, his eyes feeling strained from the lack of light.

"It's more about being generous to me," he assures her, smiling as he sees what looks to be a light switch hidden beneath a hanging fluorescent orange boa. "Kids in my neighborhood are hellions with a sugar rush when it comes to Halloween."

"What does that mean?" Kensi asks, squinting her eyes as Deeks flicks the switch, lighting up the majority of the room.

Deeks puts his flashlight away, happily noting that the room's lost its creep factor now that it's not shrouded in shadows. "It means that if you don't give out candy, you're doomed to have the front of your home trashed."

Deeks watches as Kensi nods, her eyes widening the moment realization hits.

"Oh," she says, breaking into that deep laugh she does when she finds something really funny, usually when it's at the expense of someone else, usually Deeks.

"Laugh it up," he encourages dryly, picking up an abandoned script and flipping through the pages. "But just know, I wouldn't be laughing if it were happening to you."

"Oh, you _so _would," she corrects, a smile on her face. Deeks just rolls his eyes and continues to look for a clue that their dead guy had been there. "So, what kind of trashed are we talking about?" she asks excitedly, practically bouncing on her feet.

"The usual. Toilet paper, silly string…eggs." Deeks names the list distractedly, not really wanting to think about what's likely to be waiting for him when he gets home.

Kensi, however, does. "How many times has it happened to you?" she asks, her voice fading as she walks into a small office.

"Three times," he tells her, shaking his head when he hears another bark of laughter. "Twice because of work, once because I didn't know better."

"Didn't know better, and didn't put the candy first," she yells through the opened door, her grin evident in her tone.

Deeks simply smiles, and mutters under his breath, "Learned that lesson real quick."

"So, what do you do after the candy's all gone?" She walks out of the office and leans her shoulder against the doorframe. "Did you have some crazy costume planned?"

Deeks spins in a slow circle, frown forming as he looks at the organized mess around him. "I'm not seeing anything that screams our dead Lieutenant was here."

"Now who's avoiding the issue?" Kensi smirks, pushing herself off of the doorframe. "We still got a whole lot of theater left," she says, leading the way out of the dressing area. "Now, what slutty costume were you planning on wearing?"

"Who says my costume was slutty?" Deeks asks, mirroring Kensi's earlier indignation.

Kensi pulls out her flashlight as they prepare to enter the darkened stage area, smile peeking through as she plays along. "So, you admit you do have a costume?"

"Actually, I don't," he tells her as they approach the heavy, red curtain lining the stage. Deeks starts pulling on the curtain, separating the folds as he searches for the edge.

"Seriously?" Kensi asks disbelievingly, "I always thought Halloween would be something that was right up your alley."

"Oh, I love Halloween," Deeks corrects quickly, "I just haven't really done the costume thing in while. At least, not in the way you're thinking." He smiles triumphantly as his fingers find the part in the curtain. He pulls it aside and gestures for a confused Kensi to enter.

Kensi doesn't move. Instead, she tilts her head and arches her brow. "And what way am I thinking?"

"You know…" Deeks shrugs his shoulder, and widens his smile. "All scary masks, and fake blood."

"Actually, I pictured you as more of a _Twilight_ wannabe over _The Walking Dead_." She gives him a patronizing pat on the cheek as she walks through the curtain, her flashlight held before her.

"Hey, zombies are cool, too." Pulling out his own flashlight, Deeks lets the curtain fall behind him. The auditorium is empty, rows and rows of shadowed seats and darkened balconies. Deeks can feel the creep factor return.

"Well?" Kensi prompts, obviously wanting more.

Deeks licks his lips, and takes a deep breath before muttering, "I test drive covers." He says it with confidence, hoping it'll mask the fact that he's a bit weary of admitting it out loud. He doesn't look at her, simply waits for her response. And his Kensi being Kensi, she doesn't disappoint.

"Excuse me? You test drive what?" She sounds surprised, but not condescending. Deeks takes that as a good sign, and decides to elaborate.

"Covers. You know," he begins, absently waving his hand in the air, "Like different characters I have to play." 

In the low light, he can't really tell if Kensi looks impressed or amused. "Like when you're undercover? Like Max?"

"No. No, Max was a spur of the moment kind of thing."

Something in his voice must hint that he doesn't want to talk too much about the events that brought about Max, because Kensi lets it go, choosing instead to move on. "What about Matthew?"

Deeks smiles at the mention of his preferred germophobe. "He's one of my favorites, been waiting forever to use him," he admits with pride, "Tested him out two Halloweens ago. Went to that bar n' grill off Cleveland."

"And I'm guessing it went well," Kensi says, seeming to have forgotten the reason they're at the theater in the first place as all her attention is focused on her partner.

Deeks laughs and nods, head tilted back as he remembers the first time he pretended to be Matthew. "Wasn't even an hour before the waitress said she would pay me to leave."

Any response Kensi had been thinking of making gets cut off by the sound of a phone ringing through the supposedly empty auditorium. Both flashlights immediately begin scanning the rows of seats, looking for the source.

With nothing more than a shared glance, both Kensi and Deeks begin moving in unison, one going left, the other right, guns out as they hop off the stage.

The phone only rings twice before it's cut off, and thanks to the acoustics, it's next to impossible to pinpoint exactly where the sound came from. Deeks keeps his eyes trained on his flashlight's beam, quickly sweeping it up and down the rows of seats, expecting any moment to find a blood covered phone or crazy-eyed gunman.

What he doesn't expect to find is a pair of purple and black striped stocking covered feet sticking out from beneath the seats on Row F, a pointed witch's hat hastily tucked between the arm rest of one of the empty chairs.

Deeks stops in his tracks, his flashlight pointed directly at the pair of knobby knees trying to blend into their surroundings. Lifting the light's beam a few inches reveals a bright green face, complete with a hairy wart and a drastically misshapen nose. Then there's the eyes, bright blue and squinted in a look that screams "_Go to Hell_."

"Deeks?"

Deeks doesn't look up at the sound of his name, choosing instead to keep his eyes on the seriously pissed off creature resting at his feet. He sees the witch stick out her lower jaw, her mouth pursing in a reluctantly defeated kind of way. "Hey Kens? You ever get that feeling that you're not in Kansas any more?"

While the question confuses Kensi, it only serves to further piss off an already aggravated witch.

One moment Deeks is smiling, amused with the unexpected sight before him, the next, he's jumping back as one of those stocking covered feet come flying towards him. His movements are a moment too late, however, allowing the witch's foot to come in contact with the side of his knee, knocking him off center, and sending a sharp pain bouncing around between his knee cap and hip.

"Sonuva—" He quickly reaches a hand out and catches himself on the back of the closest seat, stopping the pull of gravity as he grits his teeth against the feeling of his knee moving backwards.

He's barely had time to fully recognize what's just happened before he catches sight of Kensi chasing after his witch, both running full-force through the doors leading to the front lobby.

A quick, deep breath and a muttered curse is all it takes for Deeks to get his act together. The first few steps are awkward, looking more like a skip rather than a run. Either adrenaline or worry for his partner tricks his mind into ignoring his knee as he barrels through those double doors, quickly catching up with the two women before him.

The lobby's full of life-sized posters, worn red carpet, and velvet rope zigzagged into an easy maze. While Kensi and the witch take the long way around, bypassing the ropes altogether, Deeks decides that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

He jumps over the lengths of rope, one leg in front of the other like a hurdler. Later, when his knee's swollen and stiff, he'll look back and regret the act, but right now, he's all smiles.

He beats both Kensi and the witch to the front doors, his empty hand grabbing the witch's surprisingly strong bicep and pulling her down. It's a tangle of arms, legs, and velvet rope as the witch tries to break loose. But then Kensi's there, grabbing hold of the tattered, black dress and pulling, leaving Deeks lying on the floor, covered in rope and the flimsy, brass stands it's attached to.

"You stupid bitch!" the witch yells, causing both Kensi and Deeks to freeze in complete surprise.

"Whoa…" Kensi's eyes widen, her knee pressing firmly between the witch's shoulder blades. It takes a moment for her to put two and two together, to realize that the deep voice actually came from the witch and what it all means. "I'm pretty sure he was talking to you, Deeks," she says with a wide smile.

Deeks just shakes his head, his eyes focusing on the barely visible Adam's apple bobbing beneath the green paint. He lets his head fall back to the floor, and gives a tired laugh, a little pain-filled moan breaking through as the aftershocks of wrestling someone to the floor begin to sink in.

"You okay there, partner?" Kensi asks, smiling as she secures the handcuffs around the cross-dressing witch's wrists.

"I think I hit my funny bone." He flexes his right hand, giving it a good shake as the sharp tingle makes its way through his little finger.

Kensi rolls her eyes and helps the witch to his feet, her eyes finally recognizing his extra height. "It's just your elbow, Deeks. I doubt it's fatal."

"Easy for you to say," he says, climbing to his feet, once again flexing his fingers, "You're not the one feeling like your pinky's having a seizure."

Deeks grins at the momentarily identical looks of disbelief on both Kensi and the witch-man's faces. Kensi, however, accustomed to all things 'Deeks', simply rolls her eyes and begins to lead their suspect back towards the back door. "Well, me and the Wicked Witch are going outside. Try not to die while we're gone."

"And I'm the one being called a bitch," he mutters with a friendly smile, just loud enough for her to hear. Her only response is a less-than-friendly hand gesture, one Hetty had banned from being used in her presence. Laugh echoing in the empty lobby, Deeks flexes his elbow a few times before retrieving his fallen flashlight and limping back through the theater.

With any luck, the witch will talk and Deeks'll make it home before the night's over.


End file.
